


Peanutsromano Variety

by PeanutsRomano



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Bully, Cliffhangers, Creativity, Headcanon, Love, Multi, Multi - Freeform, Parties, Random - Freeform, Romance, Teen Romance, Writing, bully2, cut chapters, multicharacters, oneshots, rockstar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 04:57:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeanutsRomano/pseuds/PeanutsRomano
Summary: A place to put chapters of scrapped parts and a place to request oneshots :)





	Peanutsromano Variety

_ **Characters: Johnny Vincent, Peanut Romano, Bif Taylor, and Derby Harrington** _

_Plot: How Johnny and Peanut first met_

_Trivia: This was a part I thought was really good, but decided to scrap it from a recent chapter because it was unnecessary, so I turned it into a oneshot! :)_

_**IT WAS WHEN JOHNNY**_ had first transferred to New Coventry, after him and his little sister Sabrina had split from their parent's lives for good. They had resided with their grandmother, the lonely widowed June Mara, the precedent female that conceived their foul mother. He had gotten tired of being cooped up in a house all day, that constantly revolted of geriatric books that aged better than his grandmother, prunes and sour vegetables, and musty dirt that webbed through each corner of the house. Somehow, his sister could survive living there all day if she had to, but he was the opposite. He had to venture off into his own designated exploration in this fresh scenery. He wanted to thoroughly embark on new adventures that finally lacked the calamities that were his parents. The new setting was what he needed. A destination where he wouldn't have to worry about his parents scrambling his life into a mess. 

When he frees himself into the harmony of the September cool air, he roams the shattered brick streets of New Coventry that are stained with litter, fragmented bottles, and rodents scurrying to get by. Albeit, he was starting to like the small town, he couldn't deny that New Coventry was scattered ash in a hopeless tray. Nothing seemed to be an offer for him here, but he liked it if the only offer the impoverished community was able to give him, was it neglected the traces of his parents. 

As he continues to roam the streets, the exhilaration of craving triggers his desires. A hot dog stand that was operated by a seemingly desperate homeless man fielding for attention wafts the sensation of the beloved meat, brewing inside his nostrils. It was just as satisfying as your typical cup of tea. It was like the chicken noodle soup that was good for your soul. 

The thirteen year old Johnny Vincent halts himself in triumph. One to not eat much, the boy is willing to devour on a few hot dogs for dinner as an excuse to not eat one of his grandmother's meager attempt at chicken pot pie. 

His tongue dampens his lips, clicking through every trace of the pink cushions. He didn't have loot in his pocket, but he was savoring it to the very best beat. 

To save himself a height of hurling troubles, he removed himself from the hot dog vendor. The man must have seen him, as he rumbles in a raspy voice, "hey kid! Want a hot dog? Freshly cooked? It's on me."

Was he positioning him in a line of foolery here? Or did he authentically abide by his offer of a hot dog on the spot?

Gingerly, the boy pivots in a reversion, back to the damn hot dog where the meat is brutishly jabbing punches up his nose. He was surprised that blood wasn't drawn, nor caked under the stoops of his nostrils. Johnny was in the position to reconsider the bargain. 

"Want a hot dog?" The man repeats. Johnny wasn't sure how he managed to speak, with the silver straw beard hovering over what could be his mouth. In a way, it reminded him of Dearest Cousin It from The Addams Family. 

Johnny sheepishly nods, observing as a fork stabs itself into a hot dog, grilled to flawless perfection. The fork remains in the road of the grizzling hot dog, charred with the oily black smudges the way Johnny happened to like it. His tongue was performing stunts, crawling against the bow of his lip. If he was offering it on the spot, why didn't he mark the hot dog on the paper plate already?

"If you would like the hot dog kid, give me some medication! Trade for trade!" 

Suddenly, Johnny didn't trust the man attired like a clown, a striped mustard and ketchup polo shirt that looks god awful with pickle relish pants. But for a fucking hot dog, it was worth to trust the man for a moment.

"Sorry, uh, don't have any." He apologized, reverting back away from the hot dog vendor. Instead of walking, he panicked and ran as far from him as possible so the hot dogs wouldn't lure him back to the man. How in the fuck did he assume Johnny, who was clearly below the legal speed limit of age, to have medication to exchange for a fucking hot dog? 

A god damn hot dog. 

Johnny continued to roam the streets in the battlefield of courage. Other than that mishap, he wanted to resume his exploration of New Coventry.

He inhales the streets: it's intoxicating, without the vain of his parents to penetrate his day. 

Upon an enthralling discovery, he finds a train station that seems abandoned. It's the tint of desolate dust, lacking the dances of a happy soul. It's flagged with imprints of graffiti, which years later, it would be engraved with the territorial residue of the current gang that warned people this was their boundary. 

Ceased to another halt to ingest the oddly warm scenery, a simper decorates his face. In a pale blanketed sky and a sea of littered garbage, this lone vacancy of the train station commits justice. Glory settles into the peak, and the golden apple that is the sun summits over the train station as if it was a field of mountains in the delight. Cascading across the rooftops in the blank canvas sky, the sun emits its embraceful glow. In his week of being at New Coventry, this ought to be the best scenery Johnny has ever seen.

Ambitious, Johnny traverses the train russet, deteriorating tracks, loose and unstable for him to even tramp over. A ladder invites him to haul himself over the rooftop of the train station, the adventures of sight seeing a new perspective of New Coventry. When he reaches the summit, he stoops down, settling himself onto the rooftop, bare and cold to the point his ass is split off numb.

Like a hawk, the clandestine birds of the ninja warriors, like the nerds that are sneaky bastards, he surveys what New Coventry acts from an entire view of the town. The portrayal is fitting to him; it isn't a bunch of flukes, these are real people. Out there in his scrutiny, this was the world he would survive in. Survival was a key handed to him without his parents. 

With his legs tucked underneath his chin, he embraces his knees in a coil. He watches in discretion, where silence is his new harmony. Ejected out is a sigh that is no longer drenched with depression, but sprouting with serenity. The first happy sigh he has expelled, to the world and the great beyond. No more blistering winds of brutal fights with his parents. Screams were no longer shrill, and had replaced the bolstering static that exploded out the stereos of his ears. 

His eyes darted to the homeless civilian at the hot dog stand. So far, no luck exchanging for medication.

There's a police officer attempting to disengage a fight amid what it appeared to be two drunken men by a place called The Golden Horseshoe. Typical tactics in New Coventry Johnny was bound to get used to, let alone from surviving in a house with his alcoholic father. 

Following a peculiar sound, the coffee of screaming that brewed in the distance, Johnny's peer darted to what it appeared to be a fight at the train tracks, with no trace of the police to sever it. Grim, he observed the fight, spotting what it appeared to be an oddball out sorta match. It was unfair, considering that there was only a single kid juggling against a tag team. Not to mention, the kid didn't stand a chance against those two bozos he was dealing with. 

Determination scrambled the young Johnny to his feet in full spring. He climbed down the ladder, off the second to last leg he bounced and sprinted to the scene like the officer concluding the fight. Now this was his time, instead of it being the universe of adulthood, it was adolescence. 

The emergence of the brunette boy doesn’t distill the fighting, but the unexpected connection of a fist with a face diminishes the tension of the fight. Especially for the single kid, who no longer challenges the battlefront alone. 

After the punch swipes through to a kid with auburn hair, the reaction from his friend is incredulous. Mantled with disgust as he scans the poor appearance of Johnny, who’s attire was a billowing avocado sweatshirt and a pair of cargo pants. Repelled by the attraction of these cretinous poorer inhabitants of Bullworth, a baby blonde kid snickers obnoxiously. The boy with auburn hair recollects himself from the sudden hit, gathering the time to ingest what just happened. 

His eyebrows furrowed at Johnny, as he was trying to regain his breath and pace his intake. The chocolate brown eyes meshes with shamrock colored eyes, cattling in a feud between their gaze. 

“What the hell?” 

“Hey Bif, seems as though this town is brimming with low class toxicity!” The pompous blonde boy remarked, referring to the auburn haired broad kid who Johnny’s fist had clashed in. 

The single kid, who’s height was dominated by this ‘Bif’ and blonde, wavers his gaze to the mysterious appearance of the boy beside him that just aided him out. Blood caravans from the stoop of his nose, funneling down his lips. Agape, he invites the taste of the rich penny. Refusing to look like a fool in front of this stranger-rescuer, even- he wipes away the defeat from his face with the back of his hand. 

Johnny stiffens, his resentment to these two pricks already gearing up. He grunts. “I don’t like an unfair fight, ‘specially when there are two jerk wads who think its alright to pick a fight with someone for being on the other side of the tracks.” 

“We can pick on whoever we may please, you gnat,” Bif retorts, attempting to mislead him by forwarding a threatening stance. He diminishes the space amid him and Johnny, broadening his height to where he tried to intimidate him. It only strengthens his perseverance against these egotistical nimrods. Where a goal leaps up the hurdle in the yardline, his aim in this town is to take down them down like the way his dad was defeated. In New Coventry, not only did it deliver him peace, but it ripped out a fresh page of new enemies. 

The blonde simpers in amusement on behalf of his darling sidekick Bif laying down who’s boss. “Just in case you trashbags need it, here is your clarification,” the blonde instigates, refusing to simmer down from this match as well, “we belong to the upper class of this society. It is our duty to take out you guys to the dump where you guys belong. We may toy with you whenever we please, because you see, we can get away with it. Unlike you two, fending off your ratty neighborhood vendors and living in your spiderwebs you call home, we can get away with anything.”

He pressed on, prickling on like a mosquito that just can’t be swatted away so easily. “We have money that wills us to do anything we please. If an officer was to see our brawl just now, you guys would be placed in jail while we run home free. To our life of glory, where as you two paupers return to your poverty inn.” 

“We have mansions, poodles, Italian man-made cars, trust-funds for college, and a steady future. What do you guys have?” Bif agitated, exchanging a mischievous grin with silky blonde haired alliance. 

“Oh that’s right, nothing, ha!”

Johnny’s fiery summits through, air jetting higher than the rooftop of the train station. He resisted to dissemble their bones in half for the sake of not getting into trouble with not only the legal authorities, but his uptight grandmother. 

“Yeah yeah. Why don’t you take your mansions and your toy poodles and shove it up your asses?” He remarked. 

The kid, presuming to be his alliance, attains the courage to defend his rescuer in his threat. 

“Yeah, and why don’t you go back to fucking another one of your cousins while you are at it? I’m sure it would feel good with your mansion and poodle and some cousin at both ends.” 

The rich inbreds were no longer the scumbags picking on them, lassoing in for a fight. They were zombies with a vore fetish and ready to eat them venomously. A reddish glow invades the pools of their eyes, and anger seeps through the atmosphere with velocity. 

“You are dead paupers.”

Johnny was about to fight them, positioning himself where he was ready to supply his fist into Bif’s face. He wanted to cream these suckers into muck. His fist swung high up into the air, jamming it into his opponents features where he painted him with a black eye. With his other, he jabs his hand against his nose, squirting blood from his nostrils like a ketchup bottle. He was like the hot dog as blood canvasses over his flesh. Before he had a chance to redecorate his alias, an arm hauls onto Johnny’s. He reverts, on the prowl and ready to attack who appeared to be his alias when he presumed it to be one of his enemies. 

"Come on," the kid insists, dragging Johnny by his sleeve. Guiding him, they weave through the narrow space that was wedged between a metal fence that was slathered with rust. 

They scampered across the brick streets of New Coventry together, escaping from the vore dependent zombies ascending after them. Johnny kept peering back over his shoulder, snaking glimpses and slingshotting daggers at the venous rivals. 

A tug rakes up his sleeve that adheres his attention to the front of him. This boy aside him who looked to be his age, possibly younger from how puny he was, heightens his pace and from the gesture alone, it signals Johnny to haul ass as well. 

They glide past the hotdog stand swiftly where the homeless vendor doesn't identify Johnny, instead calling out to them, "help your local homeless man out!" 

As Johnny and the kid maneuver towards the strings of mid New Coventry, he averts behind him once again. They lost trace of the inbred creatures slithering their way. It only told him that those wussies must of cried for their daddies and abandoned the town. 

His accomplice aside him notices too, releasing his arm and leisurely lands to a stop. Johnny gratefully ceases, content to inhale a batch of air. Recovering, he gradually travels his surveillance to the boy aside him. He has chocolate locks of hair like Johnny's, modeled into a bowl cut that looks dorky. Framed over his face is a pair of glasses that enhance his geeky appeal. His attire is a cream shirt with a grimy colored flannel wafered over it. Yanked over his waistline are a pair of pants, a resemblance to that of a mommy's showered nerd boy. 

This kid didn't stand a chance against them to begin with. 

As soon as his breath is back to It's routinely reoccurrence, he shifts his posture to where he stands tall-which he dominates this kid by half a foot. When their gaze moons together, Johnny offers him a lopsided smile. The sun had been dusked a flaming red orange, conceived as a new birth in a sky that muddled two pale hues of blue and purple together to wove lavender. It casts an island of vibrant color that traces the outline of the kid's face, almost as if it was kissing him on one side of his face. Dawning over him, Johnny decides to get going before his grandmother realizes that he was absent this entire time and reports a kidnapping. 

"Thanks for helping me out today, I would of been caked by those fools if it wasn't for you." He acknowledges, to which Johnny is a sly nod.

"Well, I should get going before my grandma flips her shit," he decides, delving his hands into the pockets of his baggy sweatshirt. Before he could proceed, his voice disrupts him. 

"You new around here?" He asked, cramming his glasses into place as it slides away from his face. 

"Yeah." 

"You go to Bullworth Academy?"

"I start next Monday." 

"You gotta name?" 

"Johnny," he answers, "yours?" 

The bowl cut kid emits a sigh, almost wishing he could of dismissed this question. Considering this kid was going to stick around here for a while, he was going to find out one way or another. 

"The name is Larry," he simplified. 

"But people round here call me Peanut." 

Johnny arches a curious brow. "How come?" 

It was a peculiar nickname, but out of the tassle of nicknames, he would of thought it would be another way worse than that. More slummier, inappropriate, and grody. 

"Because of my height, even though I'm twelve going into seventh grade. People pick on me everyday, especially those kids back there. It's pretty common for them to bully me." 

Shaking his head in disapproval, he instantly settles on a decision that happened to be one of the best he's ever made. 

"Not anymore." He grunts. 

Peanut gingerly glances up in bewilderment. "What?" 

"I'll be your friend and put an end to the bullying for ya." Johnny persisted. 

The flicker in his eyes ignited a new light that speckles in his orbs. The sound of a friend mesmerizes him. In his few weeks of enrollment at Bullworth, the friend card wasn't handed to him easily. Students instead took pleasure in tormenting Peanut and capturing the advantages of his miniscule height. It was like the obligatory homework assignment to complete in making Peanut's life at Bullworth Academy insufferable. A miserable nightmare he couldn't escape from even when awake in reality. 

"You'd do that for me?" Peanut couldn't discreet the cheesy smile away from his lips. 

This would be the first friendship that would bloom into his life. And with how Johnny pummeled Bif-who had been humongous and broad as he was-being tormented wouldn't be common for Peanut anymore. He would have someone to defend him. Be there when he needed someone to ramble on to, from his interests, hobbies, and girls. 

Johnny confirmed his answer with a wider smile. "Course. I'm your friend."

Peanut smiles warmily, erupting into a grin the way the flame had burst into the sky beyond them. Finally, to be in a presence of a friend. 

"Thanks...friend." 


End file.
